reaching for the stars
by glitterypony
Summary: When the nightmares come to haunt him, only she can stop them, because she is his sunshine and she means everything to him; because she loves him and he loves her. Post-canon. Oneshot.


**disclaimer: **i do not own gakuen alice. if i did, natsume wouldn't even be in the manga, cause he'd be all mine. oh, i'm drooling again.

**recommended listening: **i don't think there is one this time, but i did have tifa's theme (yes, from final fantasy) by nobuo uematsu playing when i was typing this. (:

—

—

—

**reaching for the stars**

"_I think it's love, I think it's real,__  
__So different and so new.__  
__But all I know is one thing only, __  
__That all I need is you."_

—

—

—

_(tweet. tweet. tweet.)_

_His head tilts backward to search for the creatures emitting the shrill sound, but after about a minute of looking, his efforts prove to be futile; it appears the annoying birds are nesting in one of the tall pine trees, for his sharp eyes see no animals._

_Then, his gaze shifts upward to land on some small points of light, gleaming vibrantly on the inky backdrop._

_Stars, he realizes. Hundreds, thousands of them, all smiling down at him from their places in the dark sky. From their _free _homes in the sky._

_Somewhere unreachable to him._

_He scowls deeply._

_(crunch. crunch. crunch.)_

_His body tenses immediately. Abruptly, he pivots around to face the thick mass of bushes, bracing himself for what is about to emerge._

_A loud gasp reaches his ears, followed closely by rapid footfalls, and finally, a pained grunt as a man stumbles out of the foliage and falls face-first on the clearing in front of him. Still on the ground, he emits a strained groan and falls into a violent coughing fit—which is no surprise, considering the cloud of dust and dried leaves he has just created with his fall._

_(huff. puff. huff. puff. huff. puff.)_

_He is dirty and scrawny, he notices with a quirked eyebrow, with a fragile build, dust-blackened skin, ragged clothing, disheveled dirty blond hair, and the visible parts of his limbs are littered with numerous red gashes, purple-blue bruises, and newly formed scars. Simply put, a pitiful, weak mess. A piece of useless and pathetic trash for him to dispose of._

_The fool struggles to sit upright for a few moments, and once he finally succeeds, he stares at the young boy in front of him with saucer-wide eyes._

"_Y-you!" the escapee sputters, jabbing forth an accusing but shaky index finger. "You're the fire Alice user!"_

_(thump. thump. thump.)_

_With flashing blood-red eyes, he fixes a feral glare on the quivering man before him and walks toward him, each step slow and soundless. After eight tormenting steps, he is standing where the escapee is crouched, his gaze slanted down to peruse the shuddering and pathetic man._

_(thump. thump. thump.)_

"_Monster! Get away from me!"_

_He pays the hysteria no mind, and, averting his gaze from the shrunken brown irises, simply raises a hand to snap his—trembling—fingers._

_(thump. thump. thump.)_

_The escapee lights on fire instantaneously with a shriek, and he can only watch—with _wide, astonished _eyes—as blinding orange-red flames engulf his victim._

_(gulp.)_

_He stands some five feet away from the burning figure, motionless. A small part of him wants to do nothing but teleport back home and huddle under the safe protection of his covers._

_But for some twisted, sick reason, he finds himself unable to do that._

_Instead, he remains unmoving, feeling as if his feet are planted into the ground, as his crimson pools observe the agonized body in front of him. He watches as the lit escapee's limbs thrash about and wave frantically in the air, trying to alleviate the pain and extinguish the fire. He watches as the flames lick at every inch of the escapee's body; watches as the flesh melts and disintegrates with every passing second; watches as his victim's mouth hangs open, revealing a black hole that emits a bloodcurdling scream._

_He closes his eyes, but too late—the picture has already imprinted on the inside of his eyelids._

_Finally, there is no more screaming, and what's left of the man falls to the cold ground with a muffled thump._

_(thump. thump. thump.)_

_The putrid stench of the corpse wafts into his nostrils, and his stomach churns._

_("Monster!")_

_His breath hitches, and suddenly he is just standing there—gasping, gulping, hyperventilating, and horror-stricken at the gruesome mission he has just completed._

_(thump. thump. thump.)_

—

—

His bedroom is quiet, with barely a sound in the large, tenebrous space.

The vast space is dark, lit by only the silvery strands of moonlight that danced through the thin-curtained windows.

The only occupants in the bedroom are two sleeping figures on the luxurious kings-sized bed next to the center wall. One of them is hidden from view under the ash-gray blanket, her face buried deep into the matching pillow. The other occupant, however, is exposed from the security of the blanket (for it is taken up by his companion). Through what little light from the moon there is in the room, one can clearly see the painful state he is in.

Clad in a simple white t-shirt and plaid flannel pajama pants, he feels chilled, even in sleep. His well-built body convulses in shudders, his brow knits together tightly, and beads of cold sweat trail down the sides of his forehead.

The nightmares have come to haunt him again.

—

—

_(thump. thump. thump.)_

_His booted feet pad soundlessly against the cement ground and he finds himself standing in front of the doorway of the secret interrogation room. The dim room, illuminated by only the weak silver tendrils of moonlight that peek through the clear glass window, is littered with countless corpses, and smells of sweat, alcohol, and blood._

_(pit. pat. pit. pat.)_

Blood.

_The scarlet substance—like his _eyes, _like his _goddamned eyes—_reeks of salt and rusted copper and iron and _fear _and all of the owner's darkest emotions and—_

_There is a heated feeling on his hands. He raises his hands out before him and surveys them for the source of the peculiar warmth._

_(thump. thump. thump.)_

_His eyes immediately dilate, and his gut clenches painfully at the sickening sight that greets him._

_His hands, normally so deathly pale, are smothered in fresh blood, hence the warmth that he feels. Instantly, his stomach sinks to his feet, and within mere seconds, he is facing the Eastern wall on his knees, supporting himself with his hands while he involuntarily gags downward. Vomit spews out of his mouth, and the turkey and mashed potatoes with gravy he'd eaten for dinner are soon gone, emptied from his stomach in just a few seconds._

_(inhale. exhale. inhale. exhale inhaleexhaleinhaleexhale— )_

_Breathing raggedly, he straightens his form up and places his—blood-coated hands—on the rough wall to stagger to his feet, his limbs shaking like there is no tomorrow._

_Is there a tomorrow?_

_Will he ever see a tomorrow?_

_It is cold._

_Everything turns cold._

_So _cold.

_(thump. thump. thump.)_

_He doesn't even manage to stand completely before his world collapses around him._

_Everything swirls in mad circles, and darkness caves in before he hits the cement with a soft—_

_(thump.) _

—

—

The male figure on the bed abruptly jerks, his limbs rigid and nearly unmovable from all the knotted muscles within. His closed eyes squeeze tighter as the effects of the nightmares wash over him, and a fist closes around the pillow under his head, clutching onto it as if it is life itself.

He jolts awake, his upper body springing off of the bed in the blink of an eye. His right fist that was once fisted on the pillow darts elsewhere, clenching an unknown object at the moment.

His eyes are wide with panic and terror, and sweat flows abundantly from the roots of his hair, down along the side of his face, and off his chin. Mouth forming a wide 'o,' he gasps, inhaling greedily for air to sooth his aching lungs.

For a brief minute, his body stills on the bed, doing nothing but laying there, letting the effects of the too-real dreams wash over him. No matter how much he sweats, how deeply he breathes, the wave of distress never seems to cease; a sinking, gnawing _hollowness _lodges deep inside the pit of his stomach, and it is only growing more discomfiting by the second.

His right hand's grip tightens on the warm object in his hand, unknowingly keeping him just on the brink of sanity.

—

—

_He has been assigned yet another assassination mission. This time, his target is a young boy, no more than three or four years old, who is unfortunate enough to possess the rare lightning Alice._

_(thump. thump. thump.)_

_When he arrives at the child's home at approximately two in the morning, everything is dark and still, not a sound in the apartment. He creeps swiftly through the small, messy living room—careful not to step on the scattered toys—and into the bedroom with a green dinosaur ornament dangling on the door._

_(inhale. exhale.)_

_His target is clutching a Pikachu pillow in his arms, sound asleep, undoubtedly lost in his little world of dreams of Pokémon and dinosaurs and Power Rangers and superheroes and warriors and kings and fire-breathing dragons and astronauts and—_

_(inhale. exhale. inhale. exhale.)_

—_he can't do it._

_(clench fist. release. clench fist. release.)_

_He can't kill him._

_He can't._

_He just _can't.

_He feels his expression contort into a painful one, and he spins on his heels and runs, disobeying Persona for the first time in his life._

_(inhale. exhale. inhale. exhale. inhaleexhaleinhaleexhale—)_

—

—

He is so shaken by his dreams; he barely notices the intensity of his grip.

The object that is clenched in his hand twitches, and a light gasp sounds from next to him. The bed shifts slightly, indicating that the occupant next to him is now awake—or somehow moving, at least.

"Natsume?" a soft voice mumbles.

His eyes fly open as her singsong voice reaches his ears, and he sits upright on the bed with incredible speed. He is still breathing raggedly and his heart pounds with godlike speed in his chest as the effects of his dreams linger in his mind.

"Natsume?" the person beside him asks again. He turns to look her in the eye, and is lost once again.

—

—

_It is the day of the annual Hina Matsuri festival, the much awaited celebratory day when girls to receive wishes and blessings for successful and happy lives from their family. Due to the restrictions of Alice Academy, no one is allowed out or in of the gates, so the students—well, girls—decide to celebrate among themselves._

_(smile. giggle. coo. squeal.)_

_The school grounds are lined with bamboo stands with hundreds of carefully-crafted dairi-bina couple dolls on display, aweing everybody with their detail and elaborate designs. Crowds of ecstatic, kimono-clad girls scavenge the stands, eager to view all of the dolls and their friends in their beautiful kimonos._

_(clack. clack. clack.)_

_Natsume is walking, brooding, hands stuffed in his pockets as he glares at fan girls that pass by. He doesn't know why, exactly, but everything makes him angry today—perhaps it is the sickeningly sweet scent of peach blossoms wafting in the air; perhaps it is the fact that the doll stands are taking up so much of his walking space; perhaps it is the high-pitched, annoying squeals of the girls; perhaps it is the blindingly colorful patterns of the kimonos moving before his eyes; perhaps it is the festival itself, which to him seems to have no purpose._

_(step. step. step.)_

_But in truth, the biggest possibility of all—perhaps because he cannot see her. She is nowhere to be found, much to his dismay._

_His crimson pools scan the cluttered area, searching for the familiar auburn pigtails. When he has looked for a while and cannot find her anywhere, his lips pull down in a frown._

"_Kuro Neko," a voice coolly greets, interrupting his perusal. Natsume jerks around to face the unwelcomed guest, and his frown deepens as his eyes land on Persona's dark figure. His white mask is in its usual place over his eyes, and his signature sinister smile is hanging on his black lips._

_(thump. thump. thump.)_

"_What do you want?" he bites out icily, refusing to let the damned man get the best of him._

_Persona's lips twist into a wider smile as he speaks, "Tonight. You have another mission. Do not fail me again. You know what the consequences are."_

_Natsume's hands fist as he glares menacingly at the hateful man in front of him._

"_No," he growls._

_(thump. thump. thump.)_

_The man's mouth presses into a tight line, then curves downward._

"_You _will,_" he grits out._

"_No, you sick—" Natsume begins, but his comeback is cut-off when kimono patterns blur in front of him and a hand clamps around his wrist._

_It is Mikan._

"_Go away, Persona-sensei!" she intones, dragging Natsume towards the crowd of students at the howalon stand. "Give him a break for once!"_

_Natsume is taken aback; did she just stand up to _Persona_, for _him? _Why? Why did she do that for him? Why was she protecting him? Who was he to her?_

"_Natsume, walk faster!" she presses, tugging on his (warm) wrist with a little more force._

_(thumpthumpthumpthumpthump—) _

"_Why did you do that?" he asks, his voice low and steady, conveying not a hint of emotion. He swallows audibly, because his heart is beating at an unusually quick pace._

_She stops, halting his steps as well, and turns to face him, a (beautiful, sweet, breathtaking) smile plastered on her face._

"_Because—"_

_(—thumpthumpthumpthumpthump—)_

"—_I love you, Natsume."_

_(thump.)_

_He doesn't know whether she means 'I love you as a friend,' or 'I really do love you' romantic-wise, but it is enough to make his heart swell and his face slightly heat up._

_(smile.)_

—

—

"Natsume?" she asks, her voice rising in pitch out of nervousness. She coaxes his rigid fingers loose from her arm (which is now marred with finger imprints and will probably bruise in the morning), sits up, and places the back of her small hand against his moist and heated forehead. She frowns at the way he slightly flinches at the contact. "Natsume? Are you okay? You feel kind of warm."

He makes no effort to reply, just blinks slowly and focuses his vision on her, meticulously studying her.

Mikan.

The stupid girl who always has to annoy him. The infuriatingly oblivious, naïve pig-tailed child who likes stupid things like chick-flicks and howalon and that Imai-girl—

The infuriatingly loving girl who has stayed alongside him for all these years.

She is poorly clothed; only a thin pink silk-gown that barely reaches her knees covers her petite form, and his sharp eyes immediately notice that she is shivering.

Baka.

He shakes his head gingerly and kind of smirks (it's bordering between a smirk and a true smile, but _she doesn't have to know, not yet_) as he lies down on the bed, pulling her down with him.

The two lay together on the bed, he on his side, she snuggled in the safe comfort of his chest. His arm is draped protectively over her waist as his other arm acts as her makeshift pillow, on which she rests her head snugly upon. The hand attached to said arm slowly strokes her soft locks of auburn hair, marveling at how they resemble the feeling of feathers.

In her warm, comforting presence, he can't help but doze off.

—

—

_He's in trouble, he knows. He's in a shitload of trouble for not obeying Persona's words, a piece of his mind tells him. Persona is going to hunt him down and punish him severely for not following orders. Once he finds him, there will be no mercy, just pain and blood and darkness._

_But somehow, he can't care less._

_Because all that he cares about is right here, right now. In front of him. Frankly, that's all that matters._

"_Natsume!" she scolds, placing her hands on her hips, much resembling a mother._

_He smirks and leans back onto the desk to take his nap, manga book half-opened and shielding his eyes from the glittering rays of sunshine. _

"_Take a nap, Polka," he commands lazily, fatigue already beginning to cloud over his mind. He hears quiet shuffling, and then there is the sound of short, nervous breathing._

"_But—but we have to go to the assembly…" she stutters timidly, voice trailing off to nearly no sound at the end of her sentence._

"_Tch, doesn't matter." He nudges her thigh with his foot in an urging gesture, and soon he hears an exasperated sigh._

"_Fine."_

_He feels the air around him shift coolly as she relocates herself against the desk, and soon his ears are filled with nothing but the gentle, steady rhythm of her breathing._

_He smiles—_smiles—_and allows her soothing breaths to lull him into deep slumber._

—

—

Her sleepy voice rouses him from his light sleep no more than ten minutes later. His eyes open slowly and focus on her still form in the moonlight. Her position hasn't changed, her eyes still shut.

"Natsume?" the little bundle in his arms groans, raising a sluggish hand to rub her closed eyes. "Are you okay?"

The question takes him by surprise for a brief moment, and his eyes widen a fraction before he tilts his head to study her face. "What?"

"You seem…out of it today," she explains, "but actually, it's not like you're not weird most of the time anyway." She opens her eyes and laughs, a light, airy sound that makes his muscles liquefy and soften.

He frowns, pondering, before bringing his knuckles up against her forehead. "It's nothing, Polka."

"Natsume! Don't call me that!" she reprimands, jutting her lips out to form a pout, and he thinks it is the _cutest _sight he has ever seen.

He chuckles in the back of his throat and presses his lips to hers in a chaste kiss.

"Go to sleep," he orders quietly, placing a cool hand on her forehead, over her eyes. Against the palm of his hand, her eyelashes flutter once, twice, before she sighs and finally keeps them closed.

"Goodnight, Natsume, I hope you're really okay," she murmurs before drifting off in her world of dreams and happiness.

After he is certain she's sound asleep, Natsume closes his own eyes and sinks his head into his soft, feathery pillow, but not quite sleeping yet.

He thinks.

Is he okay?

Then his thoughts drift to her, to _them. _She is here, right here with him, alive and his.

And she _loves _him.

Burying his face into the silky strands of her hair, Natsume inhales and savors the faint sweet scent of tangerines and howalon.

He smiles into her hair and wills himself to sleep.

He is okay.

He is more than okay.

—

—

_He rests his head against the rough bark of his—their—Sakura tree, studying the scenery. Lush green grass, colorful blooming flowers, dancing butterflies, gentle running rivers, and warm rays of sunshine._

_He is at peace._

_(thump. thump. thump.)_

_Until laughter travels to his ears._

_Something tickles his side, and he turns his head to find Mikan lying on the ground with a small bundle in her arms, her eyes glaring angrily at him._

"_Natsume!"_

_He raises a dark eyebrow. "Yes?"_

"_Can you take Hikaru? I think he wants you to hold him."_

_His lips twitch, a smirk threatening to form on his face as he nods and takes the giggly baby boy in his arms._

_(thump. thump. thump.)_

"_Daa…Daa-daa!" the infant coos, swinging his tiny fisted hands in the air, hitting nothing._

_(smile.)_

_This time, a smirk—no, _smile—_does form on Natsume's face as he watches the endearing sight before him. He envelops one small fist in his much larger hand and gently strokes the child's knuckles._

_From beside him, Mikan sighs, "I guess he likes you better."_

_(smile. smile. smile.)_

"_Are you jealous?"_

"_Ah—what! No—I am not!" she sputters, the apples of her cheeks flushing a rosy pink._

_The corners of his mouth continue to lift into a smile as he frees an arm and uses it to pull her against him. She collides into his toned chest with a gasp, and he brushes his lips against her warm cheek before resting his chin on the top of her head._

"_Thank you," he whispers._

_For everything._

_For being here with me._

_For loving me._

_For letting me love you._

_She smiles, a tender look in her chocolate orbs, and wraps her arms around his neck._

"_Don't say that. I love you."_

_(thump. thump. thump.)_

"_Hn."_

"_Do you love me too?" she asks expectantly._

_He chuckles and closes his eyes._

"_Don't be stupid," he mutters, eliciting a flustered and irritated expression from his wife._

_Then, her expression softens into another smile._

_Because she hears the unspoken words._

'_You know I love you, too.'_

_(thump. thump. thump.)_

—

—

—

"_Knowing you care about me,__  
__Is all I need to make me smile.__  
__Everything about you, I love.__  
__Nothing else matters  
When our eyes are locked,__  
__And we're holding each other under the stars._

_You're all I ever dreamed of,  
And all I ever wanted.__  
__And I'd do anything to see a smile on your face.__  
__Jumping in front of bullets,  
Just to let you live another day.__  
__Baby, you're all I'll ever need."  
_  
—

—

—

**author's note: **well, that's it! i apologize if there are any errors, or if the entire thing seems choppy. i wrote everything in fragments and put them together. i guess this one doesn't have much of a plot to it, it's more of a character-change study-ish thing? lol. but i wanted to kind of show mikan's importance to natsume, y'know, the whole 'only light in the darkness' thing? get it? haha, it's two in the morning right now and i'm probably not making much sense right now. btw, so, i chose the name _hikaru _for their baby cause it means light, or shine. i think it's quite suiting, no?

reviews would be lovely. i get inspiration and motivation to write whenever there are reviews. (:


End file.
